


That Day It Kept Snowing

by sinning_cupcake



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death, F/M, Gérard Lacroix - Freeform, One Shot, Overwatch - Freeform, POV Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Widow, a quick treat while I work on ch7 of siren's song, feels for new years, inspired by the comic Reflections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9103441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinning_cupcake/pseuds/sinning_cupcake
Summary: Why? Why does everything she could not remember now twists in her chest with a cry of agony? Her feet stop in front of a grave that she wished to avoid the most while her mind, scattered and broken, failed to recall why does one name summon so much sadness in her cold heart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The Christmas comic had a lot of new surprises. A particular scene with Widowmaker however still haunts me. Thus, here is a little feels trip.

 

**Tʜᴀᴛ Dᴀʏ Iᴛ Kᴇᴘᴛ Sɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ**

 

When the web is spread a spider waits patiently, its body feeling every vibration that the net spreads across upon contact with something heavy. When a bullet pierces the head of the target, the trap pops closed, blood spreading like a halo on the ground in the longing symbol of an end. Screams arise and time seems to go into slow motion as the fearing run, begging for their life, and praying to those they think will save them from the sharp eye watching from the top. Of course, there was only one target for the evening, but the news reporters fail to notify of peace, thus promising that soon another will fall to their knees unable to speak for eternity. 

Widowmaker leaps from one building onto another, her grappling hook grasping the opposite roof much higher that the one she was currently on, pulling her slender body upward to gain a new vantage point. The scope of her rifle is focused yet again on the spot of the perfect kill, noticing the rapid color-changing lights of red and blue as well as the gathered crowd that moments ago vanished like rats in the dark corners. She lowered the firearm, her pale blue lips twisting into a side smirk while her golden eyes remained blank. She knew the job was done well and thus waited for the familiar sound of a shuttle appear somewhere from behind to pick her up at the marked rendezvous location. 

And then. That was it. The doors would slowly shut leaving the sniper sitting on her cold bed, watching the outside through a window exposed to the cold breath of fresh winter. She would not shiver as the ice licked her bare skin; she barely noticed the change in the weather while her breath thickened into a soft puffy cloud. 

As her head hit the cold pillow and her eyes began to slowly drift shut, it would become the moment when Widow recalled her previous kill. It was magnificent, the most satisfying thing she’d ever done. The bullet from the Widow’s Kiss was elegant in its flight, the sound of breaking flesh and bone as it entered the skull could be heard from miles away, and all of it recorded in the hungry empty mind that wished to be filled with something. _Anything._

The Talon doctors remained quiet this evening. They decided that frequent brainwashing was only a waste of time since Widowmaker barely left her quarters during the time off. She did not show any sign of emotion, her expression remaining still when she was exposed to various tests. She would sit there for hours staring at beautiful things of meaningful family, love, happiness, sadness, holidays, and excitement; her heartbeat remained equal only quivering once when exposed to a slide of someone dying from a point-blank shot. And that’s how she passed. The only time of feeling alive, sensing the breath filling her lungs, was the time when she watched someone perish. 

“Job well done, Widowmaker. As always.” The leader of the third scout squad congratulated the woman once she passed by with two lab workers by her sides. It seemed like he was the only one that cared for her successful missions, actually trying to strike a conversation with the Talon’s cold celebrity. Alas, the woman would remain unresponsive, not turning her head to acknowledge his existence. It wasn’t that she had no desire to answer, she simply couldn’t with all that void in her mind, her body panicking as it didn’t understand why the woman was so cold and empty. 

A few days pass on by the same routine: wake up, eat, pass a test, train, watch people from the distance learning their behaviors and predicting the outcomes, eat again, receive news for an upcoming mission, go to sleep. A schedule of a prisoner more or else, however, Widow had no objections. Talon seemed to be the one pulling the strings, but that is how it kept her alive, gave her a reason to awaken by dawn and have everything presented and organized for the day. However this time things turned out quite different when one of the commanding representatives knocked on her door with the news that the holidays were approaching. The evil never slept, but it seemed even villains took a break during the time of Christmas. 

What was so special about this holiday? People gathering together in front of a tree that was tasked with a burden of holding lights and toys for one night before losing its true significance. What else was there?  A meal that a mother made only for one day, something that the children waited for a year, or is it that colorful wrapped up box that had something of value inside, a gift that is no longer surprise because the children knew exactly what they were getting. What is it that made the boss of her division laugh in the distance, pulling on a funny red hat and kindly wishing everyone a holiday worth living for instead of yelling to move their feet and shoot the enemy? 

What was that word that he kept repeating over and over again?

“Widow.” The woman’s head jerked at the mention of her codename, her back straightening to greet the commander. “Take a break. Leave the headquarters. I am sure you don’t want to miss the holidays.” 

“Sir, I have missions-”

“You have none, Widowmaker. Go home and visit your loved ones.” There was a crooked smile on his lips, his eyes laughing at the woman that stared back in a hint of confusion. The man mentioned two things that the sniper could not understand and both of them knew she had neither.  Alas, she only nodded, watching the commander part way with a loud explosion of laughter as he joined a group of his friends at the exit of the building. The woman took a deep breath, her eyes flickering toward the door of her room as she gathered a few of her prized belongings, pulling a coat over her shoulders, and leaving as ordered. 

 

The outside was covered in frost. The clouds holding the darkening sky, dulling the streets and buildings as it slowly sunk into a monotone melancholy. Nothing was smiling until the sniper reached the alleyway that led toward the city. There, a million flickering lights met her in a variety of locations, a large crowd of people flowing from one stream to another, cars slowly approaching their desired destinations, and music playing as a constant reminder that Christmas only began. The clock struck midnight on the big towering building, summoning a synchronized action of hugging and cheering. The Widow moved swiftly through those clumps of affection that planted a sickening feeling of emptiness into her chest. It was as if she was missing something. Something so special her heart began to skip a beat or two as she ran through the thin alleys trying to escape the snow-covered cement. 

It was then where she stopped in front a small flower stand, an old man that stood behind the counter focused his tired gaze on her, a beaming smile spreading in a short greeting. 

“A fair lady where are you rushing? It’s Christmas! Enjoy the night.” The man’s voice was weak but nonetheless there was this hidden joy that startled the Widow. 

“I...I have to go.” She said, looking away from the lights that illuminated the streets of the pier. Her hands were hidden in the pockets of her long black coat, her dark hair swaying softly in the passing wind that crawled between the houses close standing to each other. 

“Ah, you will have time to run, my dear. Don’t waste it now.” He reached for one of the vases that stood on the stand, retrieving a single red rose before extending it toward the woman. “Here. A gift for a beautiful lady that should certainly enjoy the night.” He smiled again, his eyes glowing while the rest of his face spoke of exhaustion and lack of sleep. This man was certainly standing here all day and by the looks of it not many flowers were sold. It was a surprise since such a big holiday approached the city, alas now it seemed that people were more interested in material gold like technology rather than something that would perish after a week or two. The Widow looked at the rose before slowly taking it with her hand, eyes glued to the bright red blossom. 

“Thank you.” She nodded at the man who dismissed her with a friendly wave of his hand. 

“Go, darling, enjoy your night. I bet a young man of yours is very lucky to have you.” He chuckled, his attention turning to a sudden couple of customers that decided to approach the cart and check out what he had in store. Meanwhile, Widowmaker stood aside, gaping at the man and the rose as her feet carried her away without her mind consenting. A young man? Lucky to have her? If only he knew that the only man that was ever lucky to take her by the hand was now resting on the cold ground abandoned by the sunlight. 

 

_ Gégard. _

 

The cemetery was abandoned. There was no reason for visitors since the holiday celebrated the present, preparing everyone to let go of everything that happened in the previous year and fly into the new.  Widomaker stepped slowly onto the slim road that was hidden under the thick snow. The general direction sent her wandering along the cenotaphs and cold graves with names of people she had not recognized. Were they remembered on this day, perhaps spared a spot under the Christmas tree? Alas, she would never find out since her mind did not register any feeling of caring for those no longer in the world of the living; all of them were meaningless but one. 

Her feet came to a halt, her body slowly turning to a grave as her eyes froze on a name that made her chest painfully twist and sink. She swallowed thickly, hesitantly taking one step forward, her lips parting to silently mouth the name that read across the icy stone. 

“Gégard…” She muttered, her eyes casting downward at the white. She never attended his funeral, nor did she know what consequences followed after he died in his sleep. All Widowmaker knew is that Talon was satisfied and her memory of him was gone. 

Then why? Why was she standing here in front of a grave the location of which should’ve never been stuck in her mind; the address that she mysteriously kept in store while her brain had to undergo a series of changes and cleaning.  The woman could not feel anything as her eyes scanned the stone again and again. Did she love this man when he was alive? Was he good to her? Was he a soldier that she once dreamt of as a little girl, or was he a coward that deserved his death? She could not remember no matter how many times she tried to remind herself of all those things she missed, all those gaps she wanted to fill. 

“Gégard.” She repeated, but the name only sunk a deeper icicle into her slow-beating heart, twisting in agony for a promising scar to then later appear and bleed until her mind was wiped again. The Widow slowly lowered down, her hands brushing the snow off the ground to reveal more of the grave before she placed the former given rose on top of the stone. Then, she stood there watching the snow fall onto the onyx cobblestone and the crimson petals of the rose that reminded her of some hidden hope that still beat deep within her cold body.  A naked lonely tree that stood nearby served as a witness of a single tear dragging from the corner of the woman’s eye and vanishing somewhere half-way down her cheek. Alas, Widow never sniffled or even took notice of the commotion in her eyes; her face remained in the same expressionless form it was from the very beginning. 

She didn’t know how long she stood there, perhaps an eternity, but the snow kept falling, covering her hair and shoulders. Her head wasn’t protected by the visor she was used to carrying everywhere, thus she could feel the cold flakes pressing against her hair and sinking to touch her scalp. With a deep breath, the Widow took a step back, her eyes finally averting from the grave she failed to leave for such a long time. Her head began to spin as if something was trying to beat its way inside, slamming against the locked doors while pleading to the Widowmaker to submit to the long lost memory of happiness. Something she so wished for without even realizing it; waiting for a day to come when a real smile would grace her lips and eyes returning to the glow they once possessed. One true joy. 

As she made her way out from the lonely graves, she didn’t look back. She didn’t have to.  The Widow could clearly feel someone watching her even if she was there alone in the dancing snow that refused to cease its assault. A pair of invisible eyes never left her back even when she stepped behind the gates and stopped for only a moment to take a deep breath and gaze upward, letting her long eyelashes catch a few flakes before slightly turning her head to find a red spot on the snow at the distance. A single grave was remembered today; a single grave amongst all others. It was the grave of one true lover killed by the one that delivered the rose, one true company that would soon vanish from insanity and oblivion. 

“Gégard.” His name treacherously flew off her lips again. “Je suis désolé.” 

  
And then she was gone while the snow kept falling and falling, soon taking the rose into its cold white embrace. 


End file.
